


Glada-Ignee

by yeaka



Series: The Chocobro Show [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Yooka-Laylee (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio’s inappropriate and Ignis just wants to game.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Series: The Chocobro Show [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538524
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	Glada-Ignee

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV, Yooka-Laylee, any of the various video games referenced below, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His wing clips through the wall again, and Ignis bites back his frown—he reminds himself this is voluntary, _fun_ , and he doesn’t have to play through frame-rate drops and unresponsive controls and outdated camera issues if he doesn’t want to. He lands, squats to do his jump, and the animation for it takes so obscenely long that a corplet barrels into him, knocking him backwards and into a security drone that shoots him square in the face. He’s soft-locked between the two, jostled back and forth until his butterflies are gone. Ignis sets the controller down on the coffee table and doesn’t fly into a rage.

He breathes out through his nose, comforted by the mental image of Noctis throwing the glitchy game against the nearest wall. Noctis would definitely have a fit over it. But at the moment, Ignis isn’t playing with his difficult prince.

Gladiolus plucks the controller up, declaring through a smirk, “My turn.” Ignis sighs. The most annoying thing is that the break is no relief—despite his utterly unfair death, he would’ve happily kept going. As Prompto puts it ‘3D platformer collectathons are just chocolate. You can’t go wrong with chocolate.’ Despite his young naivety and overly pleasant demeanor, he does have his genius moments. Ignis wanted to finish the level himself, like he did the previous newly-expanded world. 

Granted, Gladiolus had to get a turn _sometime_. He’s been a marvelous sport about Ignis hogging the television. Now he settles back into the couch, even picking his feet up to plonk down on Ignis’ coffee table, and Ignis is still too preoccupied with his own bitter thoughts to fuss over it. It takes a long moment for Gladiolus to jog back to where they were after respawning at the start, and while he’s doing that, he tosses one thick arm over the back of the couch. It drapes over Ignis’ slender shoulders not-so-subtly, and Ignis, not wanting to have to be set back _again_ , dryly suggests, “Why don’t you keep your hands on the controller, Gladio?”

“Only need one hand to run,” Gladiolus answers, before throwing Ignis a lazy wink and a sly: “I can get a lot of things done with just one hand.”

Ignis rolls his eyes. _Every time_. Sometimes it makes sense, when they play RPGs with barely-clothed characters or realistic story-telling games with sexy detectives and sexier androids, but they’re literally playing a _children’s_ game. How Gladiolus manages to get himself in the mood with a green lizard and purple bat chirping in the background is completely beyond Ignis. 

But he can see in his peripherals that Gladiolus is definitely _in the mood_ , at least halfway up if not all the way there. He hasn’t suggested they cut their playtime short yet. It’s gotten dark outside the windows, and they finished dinner an hour ago, but it still seems early to devolve into bedroom activities. Gladiolus nudges his shoulder anyway and quips, “Hey, how about we do a roleplay.” Before Ignis can pointedly roll his eyes again and insist Gladiolus keep his gaze on the game—and getting them through the next grueling mini-game—Gladiolus clarifies, “Y’know, like those dorks do when they play. Not that I wanna carry you around like my backpack.”

“One of those dorks is your crown prince, you know.”

“Doesn’t make it any less dorky. So, you wanna get dorky with me?”

Ignis makes his next sigh more obvious, clearly burdened, like their friendship is an incredible tax on him. Sometimes it is, even if it’s also chocolate. He hates himself for asking, “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

“Sit on me.” Only when Ignis shoots him a _look_ does he add, “On my shoulders. Y’know. Be my Laylee.”

“How about I just screech in your year?”

“There you go, you already got the sass down.”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you.” It’s not that he would be totally _against_ perching down on Gladiolus’ broad shoulders, thighs spread around the back of Gladiolus’ head, fingers tangled in Gladiolus’ hair. It’s that he was really hoping they’d finish one hundred percenting the game before bedtime, so they can start a new one next weekend. While they could, technically, go take on the final boss without all the collectables, it would feel _wrong_ , and even incredibly right sex couldn’t fix that. 

Gladiolus tries anyway, “How about we just cosplay, then?”

Ignis blurts before his brain makes the noticeable connection, “They’re not wearing any clothes.”

“Exactly.”

Ignis groans. The worst part is that it’s starting to get to him too. The bright colours and cheery music and fanciful level design should be cooling him down, but they’re not. Every time Gladiolus brushes up against a weird hit box or flies to a spot that clearly wasn’t meant to be flown through, Ignis just gets _mad_ , and that turns him on. Other times, Gladiolus brilliantly triumphs through an awkward puzzle, and Ignis feels proud, equally turned on. And then there’s the simple fact that he’s sitting next to the royal hunk he crushed on all through high school, and adulthood’s only made Gladiolus hotter. He’s pretty much been Ignis’ ongoing wet dream since he finished his tattoo. And he’s sprawled out on Ignis’ couch, legs spread, knee touching Ignis’, arm no longer around Ignis’ shoulder but bumping his, smelling of sweat from the gym and that heady cologne that Ignis _loves_ — 

“Perhaps if you go first,” Ignis concedes. 

Gladiolus starts but instantly picks up on the conversation Ignis is reigniting. He smirks at the TV, concentrating on the enemies he’s ambushing, but Ignis knows that sizzling look is meant for him. “You first. I’m planning to unlock pants for my character, but I don’t think it’s an option for yours.” _His_ character is clearly the bigger one, which Ignis doesn’t mind, because his has flying, which is inarguably the best ability.

“The developers would scream if they knew what this game’s inspiring.”

“You kidding? Half these guys worked on Conker’s. They started the naughty puns first.”

“Not _that_ kind of naughty.”

“That kind of naughty. And if they saw you, exclusively that kind of naughty.”

“I knew I should’ve played this with Noct instead.”

Gladiolus lets out a full-bodied laugh, probably knowing full well that Ignis wouldn’t give up their game nights for anything. It doesn’t even matter how fun the actual game is—and this one’s fun enough to merit the one-hundred-percent run—it’s that they do it _together_.

Preferably with their clothes on, because they don’t need another Mario Sunshine incident. 

“Tell you what, Iggy. We’ll go back to the casino, trade on failure, and whoever beats I.N.E.P.T. gets to keep their pants on afterwards.”

Ignis hesitates. He doesn’t know if he can manage that, and he’s the best gamer he knows. But he also knows that one of them has to beat that damn boss _sometime_ , and that’ll be as good a motivator as any. He can’t imagine the final boss will be anywhere near as difficult, so they should be able to manage the rest of the game even with one of them entirely naked. 

He concedes, “Alright,” and Gladiolus grins as he starts moving.


End file.
